Bowtie
by Missie DuCaine
Summary: SLASH. Data needs to learn to be a James Bond-esque ladies man. And he wants MIKE to teach him how? That can't be good.


**Bowtie: 007**

_I definitely do not own the Goonies. And I know, some people think that 80s movie kid slash is ookie, but I thought it was cute. So there. :D_

"I have a problem, Mikey."

Mike looked up from his comic book, blinking. "Hey, Data! I didn't hear you come in."

Data grinned, an pointed proudly to the window. "I got my 007 spy sneak trap line to work! But that's not the point, Mikey. The point is, I have a problem."

Mike closed the comic. "What kind of problem?"

Data reached in his jacket, and produced the poster for a recent James Bond movie. "Bond always gets the girl! I don't always get the girl! Bond is a ladies man! I'm not a ladies man! Bond is famous for everyone loving him! Everyone doesn't love me!'

Mike frowned. "Well, you are a 13 year old James Bond. He's like... old."

"That's not the point either!" Data protested. "Bond got the girls when he was 13! I bet he even got them when he was 12! But I can't get any girls! Help me, Mikey?"

Mike gave him a dy look. "What exactly do you suggest I do about it, Data?"

"Teach me how to be a ladies man!" Data cried, flopping down on Brand's bed, across from Mike.

The other boy snorted.

"I mean it, Mikey!" Data insisted. "Look, Susan Ramsey always sends you notes in class, and Anita Bones kissed you behind the school last year. You're way more of a ladies man than me, so teach me! Please?"

Mike groaned, trying to avoid Data's puppy dog eyes. "Data..."

"Pretty please?" Data all but begged.

Mike crumbled. "All right, all right. I'll try, but I'm not promising anything, okay? We're goonies, remember. We don't usually get things right."

"Doesn't matter, Mikey," Data grinned, bouncing. "Okay. Teach me."

"Well, okay..." Mike took a deep breath. "First... first... clothes! James Bond is always wearing a bow tie, right? Girls like things like bow ties."

Data's face fell. "I can't tie bowties," he confessed in a whisper.

"I can't either," Mike shrugged. "But I can tie a normal bow. Maybe if we tied some ribbon around your neck, we could make it look like a bowtie."

The Asian boy's face lit up. "Yeah!"

They snuck downstairs, and crept into Mike's mom's 'office', and peered into the sewing basket. Sure enough, there was a nice big spool of black ribbon, which they cut a generous portion of. Just as they were sneaking back upstairs, however, there was a clatter, and Mike's mother entered the front door, her left arm in a sling.

"What happened, mom?" Mike gaped, barely managing to remember to hide the ribbon behind his back.

"Oh, hello boys," she smiled thinly. "I tripped on the steps of the library. The doctor says its sprained, I have to keep it in this sling for another three weeks or so."

"Does it hurt a lot?" Data asked, seeming impressed by the sling.

"I should hope not," she smiled. "I'm on so many medications to make sure it doesn't. Have you seen your father today, Mikey?"

"He hasn't come home yet," Mike shook his head.

"All right," she sighed. "I hope he managed to talk Troy's father out of the foreclosure... all right boys, off you go! Go play!"

"Yes, mom!" Mike backed up til he hit the stairs, then raced up, hoping she hadn't noticed the ribbon. Once upstairs, he plunked Data down on his bed, and carefully, tongue sticking out in concentration, tired it into a bow. "Well, it looks a bit like a bowtie," he offered, weakly.

Data darted to the mirror to check, then turned, grinning. "It's perfect, Mikey! I really look just like Bond now! What's the next step?"

Mike wracked his brains. "You gotta... you gotta walk good!"

"I gotta walk good?" Data repeated, suspiciously.

"Yeah. Like you own the place." Standing, Mike started walking around the room with an exaggerated swagger, trying to capture some form of a proud, confident walk. Instead, he resembled a rooster, but a few moments later, Data was right behind him as they goose-stepped in circles, waving and winking at invisible girls.

"Okay," Data said breathlessly as he flopped down on the bed, watching as Mike took a shot from his inhaler. "What's next?"

Mike considered. "You have to use soft... sofistered... sequestered..."

"Sophisticated?" Data offered. "Sophisticated, that's wh at I said," Mike insisted. "Sophisticated language."

"I already do that," Data informed him. "Didn't you know?"

"Oh, yeah." Mike fumbled. "I mean, I just thought you ought to know."

"Hmph." Data gave him a stern glare. "What else?"

"Well, the only other thing is... you gotta know how to kiss," Mike nodded. "Girls like it when you know what you're doing."

"But how am I supposed to know how to kiss when I've never kissed anyone?!" Data cried.

"Um..." Mike frowned. "Practice?"

"But how am I suppose to practice when no girl will let me kiss them?!" Data demanded. "That's the whole problem!"

"Oh, right." Mike had to consider that one. "Well, practice on me, then."

Data pulled a face. "But you're a boy!"

"So?" Mike shrugged. "I saw Brand and Troy kissing behind the school last year. If they can do it, why can't other people, huh?"

Data had to consider that for a few minutes, then nodded, "Okay." He took a deep breath, then leaned forward. And banged his nose off Mike's.

"Ow!" Mike yelped, hands flying up to his nose as he backed up. "You're not trying to beat them up, Data!"

"Sorry," the Asian boy winced, looking apologetic. "I told you I never did this before!"

"Okay," Mike said, dropping his hands from his nose, which really was just fine anyway. He'd been more surprised than anything. "You just sit still, watch me, okay?"

Data nodded.

Mike nodded back, then copied the people on tv. Turning his head a little to the side, he leaned closer, and pressed his lips against his friends. They stayed this way for a few seconds, then Mike leaned back, and grinned. "See?"

Data looked unimpressed. "That doesn't seem very exciting. Sides, Bond is always moving his mouth, like this:" he then proceeded to open and close his mouth in a very fish-out-of-water way.

"Well, that doesn't look very exciting," Mike shot back.

"Sure it is!" Data bounced. "Bond always gets the girl, doesn't he?"

Well, Mike did have to admit that was true. "Well, yeah, but..."

Data didn't wait to hear the rest of what he was going to say. He tilted his head to the side as taught, then pressed their mouths together, opening and closing his in a vague attempt to kiss like Bond did in his movies. It felt a bit like Data was trying to eat Mike's mouth, and it was kind of sloppy and very wet, since Data was trying so hard he was getting spit on Mike. Mike giggled, and kind of almost laughed, taking Data by surprise when he opened his own mouth to try and speak, but instead, he ended up with someone else's tongue in his mouth.

"Ew!" Date yelped as they leapt apart from each other, wiping at their mouths and tongues. "Ew!"

"You slipped me the tongue!" Mike yelped, scrubbing at his tongue with the back of his hand.

"On accident!" Data insisted, making gagging noises.

"I can't believe Brand says he likes that, eww..." Mike gagged.

Data paused, blinking. "Brand likes it?"

Mike went cross-eyed, peering down at his tongue as though he thought it had somehow changed. "Yeah, he said so. There was this movie, and someone put their tongue into the other's mouth in a kiss, and Brand said it wasn't gross, he liked it. But eww..."

Data tried to cross-eyed look on his own tongue. It looked the same as ever. "It wasn't completely gross," he offered, tentatively.

Mike blinked at him. "Your tongue is supposed to stay in your mouth. It's the rules."

"I bet James Bond slips people the tongue," Data announced, feeling surer of this declaration with every passing second.

"Yeah, well, I'm not Miss Galore!" Mike took another puff of his inhaler.

Data frowned thoughtfully. "No, you aren't a girl."

"Nope," Mike nodded.

"But you could be my sidekick!" Data beamed at this idea. "You could be... double oh eight! You could be, like, my sidekick. That I get to practice kissing with. When there are no girls around."

Mike narrowed his eyes at Data suspiciously. "You're not gonna try to slip me the tongue again, are you?"

Data grinned. "Who, me?"

"All right..." Mike agreed, warily.

"Great!" Data bounced on the bed in delight. "Now, sidekick, as 007, I need to teach you about being a secret agent. First, you must learn how to be a ladies man. Let's go get some ribbon: you need a bowtie."


End file.
